Rosko, Mandy - Mate of the Wolf (Siren Publishing Classic) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Shelley’s eyes snapped open. Light blinded her, and sleep left her like a blanket being ripped away, leaving her wide awake. How long had she been out?

Instead of a blue sky, a pointed cabin roof made of logs sat above her, staring at her as she lay on a fur rug of some kind. A fur rug, not the leaves and twigs from outside.

Her hands flew to the worn blanket that covered her body and lifted it away. Aside from her hiking boots and socks, everything she’d worn while out in the woods was still on her. Roberto Cavalli jeans, long-sleeved shirt, everything, all the way down to the gold rings on her fingers and the locket at her throat.

Her fingers felt nice and clean. There were still prick marks from the pine needles, but someone—him no doubt—had cleaned her hands until they were a healthy peach instead of covered in dirt and green slime from decaying leaves. She touched her blond hair. It felt smooth and dry, and no leaves or twigs seemed to be stuck in it.

She didn’t understand. Why do this for her? Why clean her up and bother with blankets? To prevent infection? Get her to lower her guard? Who knew? She felt around the left side of her neck. Still tender, but a fresh bandage had been taped there.

She wasn’t relieved, nor did her nerves ease up. Just because she’d been bandaged up and nothing had been stolen—and nothing perverted had happened while she slept—didn’t mean she was safe while awake.

She hadn’t rented a cabin and knew no one in the area who had one. So it could only belong to one other person.

The door opened, and Shelley whipped her head around.
He
stood in the doorway, dressed this time—thank God—in faded jeans, old brown work boots with the heavy heels and steel toes, and a maroon T-shirt. The sun was behind him again, but now it wasn’t so bright or at the proper angle to shadow his face to her.

The beauty of his features actually threw her for a loop. A shadow of a beard darkened his square jaw. It was as dark as his thick head of shaggy hair, which didn’t quite reach his shoulders. He hadn’t shaved in a day or so, but she’d always found that look to be hot.

He stopped at the sight of her, his arms filled with firewood that went up to his chin. “I was hoping you’d still be out when I came back.”

She turned. There was a stone fireplace in the wall barely three feet away. The embers burned low, which explained the firewood he carried. Long metal prongs leaned against the stone. Could she get to the fire pokers before he got to her?

He stepped inside, his heavy boots clomping against the floorboards.

She didn’t want him near her. Shelley jumped up. “Where am I?” The sound of clinking chains reached her ears too late.

Her head snapped down. An iron shackle sat securely around her ankle, connected to a rusted black chain—a friggin’ chain!—as thick as her wrist.

Animal fear sucked any intelligent thought out of her head.

He put the wood down on the floor without taking his eyes off her. He held his hands out cautiously. “I can explain that.”

Shelley opened her mouth and shrieked. She ran at her captor and tackled him like a football player. She must have shocked his wits out of him because he flew off his feet and went down on his back. The bang from his body hitting the floor crashed with the impact of a crane dropping a truck.

Shelley pushed herself against his body, launching herself into a flying leap toward the door.

“Wait—”

Sunshine hit her face as she exited the cabin. Her legs were spaghetti weak. She stumbled down the three steps of his porch but managed to keep her footing.

She stopped abruptly. A thick tree line surrounded the cabin. No lake. No other cabins that she could see. Just a dark, dense forest.

“Wait! Come back!”

Shelley looked behind her.

Mistake! Her kidnapper had gotten to his feet and was running after her. She ran again. She tried to. The chain had run out of length, and it pulled her leg one way when she was trying to go the other. She lost her balance and was pulled down.

Shelley fell with a thud on her chest. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and she coughed, puffs of dirt clouding around her face.

Then
he
was on her. He turned her on her back and held her down, gray eyes flashing with annoyance. “Listen!”

Shelley struggled against him and screamed. She tried to at least. Her body was so weak she didn’t think he felt her pathetic blows, and the sound that came from her throat was more of an expulsion of air than a scream. He clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her anyway.

She bit him. Her teeth broke skin and blood splashed into her mouth. He yanked his hand away.

“Ah! Fuck!” He shook his hand out. Droplets of his blood spattered in the dirt as he got up off her, paced, and cursed.

He put his hand to his mouth to suck on the wound. Righteous glee surged through Shelley’s body.

Good. She was glad she hurt him. Glad for the taste of blood in her mouth even as she spat it out. If he tried anything on her, she’d bite off a whole finger.

With his back to her, he suddenly stiffened. His head came up and away from his hand, and his shoulders started to shake like an earthquake was rumbling under his skin.

Concern spiked inside her. Oh God. Was he having a seizure? She didn’t know anything about him, so it was possible. What if he died out here? She would still be chained up and alone in a place that didn’t look like it had a radio much less a phone to call for help.

Shelley got up and ran to him, but what she could do to help, she didn’t know. She’d never had any medical training or even seen someone having a seizure before. Her hand clasped his shoulder. “Are you—”

He spun, and eyes that were suddenly golden glared at her from under a caveman-thick brow that hadn’t been there before. His nose was longer, wider, and darker. Hair, long, gray, and black, sprouted on his face from his pores, and his teeth were as long and as pointed as a saber-tooth tiger’s.

A tiny scream erupted from her throat, and she jumped back. He followed, his boots heavy against the ground.

Shelley tried to take another step back, but the chain jerked and halted her. She looked down and saw that, yes, she was at her limit.

“Ge’ in the housh!” His voice was rough, deep, and slurred from the long teeth. “Lock the door an’ shtay away from me!”

Good advice, but her feet were frozen.

Then his bones broke and snapped at odd angles. They sounded like tree branches breaking, and she winced and covered her ears. More thick hairs sprouted on his face and arms as he doubled over.

That did it. Shelley unstuck her feet and ran back to the cabin. A hideous howl followed her.

She rushed inside and tried to slam the door, but it wouldn’t shut all the way.

The chain! The door stopped on the chain! Shelley dropped to her haunches and started yanking the chain inside in desperate tugs. She looked up as her kidnapper fell onto four paws.

Her heart stopped for some seconds before it began beating again in a frantic, drug-induced rush. God. She did not just see that. She did not just watch a man turn into a wolf!

The animal shook itself and seemed to settle before it turned its head and found her, golden eyes staring. Shelley froze as they locked her into place. The wolf seemed to be under the same spell.

It was the silver wolf that chased her last night. The one that had tried to kill her.

The animal came out of its daze, lifted its muzzle to the sky, and howled before charging toward her.

Heart in her mouth, Shelley pulled the chain the rest of the way with renewed vigor. The beast’s nails dugs holes into the earth as it charged, jumped clean across the porch, and smashed face first into the wooden door just as Shelley slammed it shut.

Shelley pressed her back to the door. Her breasts pumped and breath wheezed as she panted. What was that? What the hell was going on?

Uh, plain and simple, you idiot
.
There was a monster outside. And it wanted to kill her. Was
going
to kill her unless she thought of something fast. But she was still wearing the chain. Unless her kidnapper kept the key to it inside and not in the pair of jeans he’d just ruined, there was no way she was getting out of here.

Long nails scratched at the door outside. The wolf barked.

Tears streaked down Shelley’s cheeks. “Go away!”

She couldn’t give up. She just needed to calm down. That man, wolf, whatever he was, had kidnapped her. But wait, she knew exactly what he was. A werewolf. The word shouldn’t exist outside of horror movies and the paranormal romance novels she read, but there was no other explanation for it.

He was a freaking real, live werewolf.

More scratching and barking followed by a pitiful whining sounded outside.

It was the whine that snapped her out of it. Why would it be crying? No way was she opening the door to find out.

The fireplace. The pokers. Not something that could be used to saw through her chain, but any one of them would make a suitable weapon. She’d beaten the wolf before with the right swing of a log, so a metal poker would definitely make a better weapon.